


d'apprivoiser un menteur

by alltomorrowsparties



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Thorki - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-08 17:48:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 12,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltomorrowsparties/pseuds/alltomorrowsparties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-Avengers. Loki has been placed in temporary confinement in the dungeons as Odin considers his fate. </p><p>However, disaster strikes when he falls into a deep Odinsleep caused by the shock of the events of the last year. But unknown to the rest of the family until this occurance, Odin has deferred leadership of the country to Frigga; as a result of the brothers' former battling for the crown. This stands as law until she considers one of the brothers worthy to replace her. </p><p>The nation is dumbstruck at these turn of events, and none more so than the two brothers- Loki at Odin's reappraisal of his son, Thor at the realisation that his father still does not trust him completely. They are even more shocked when Frigga lays out her solution- they are both to live together in solitary confinement- Thor without Mjolnir, Loki without his seiðr as punishment for their respective actions- until they have worked out their differences. </p><p>Both are horrified. But what they don't consider is that it might actually work...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Over Asgard, the aurora shot tendrils of green across the sky, fluttering through constellations and fanning out into great shimmering arches, reflected in the crests of waves below. Shards of glass were visible here and there in the sea, if you knew where to look. An entire spectrum of colours used to flow through that glass, but now it rested in dull pieces, reflecting only what colours lay around it. It seemed that the sky, the sea and the glass had all conspired against him in mockery. Loki's seiðr danced tantalisingly out of reach.  
  
A handprint lay on the glass as he moved away slightly, sinking down into a soft chair. Thor's Midgardian woman had brought it with her last time she visited. It was far too long a visit, he reflected to himself, that required furniture. Well, long for the mortal at any rate. A year seemed like the blink of an eye to one such as himself. When he had first seen the offending item decorating their cell, Loki had smiled. Then set about artfully burning the surface until the leather had disintegrated. Only then, once it bore no resemblance to its former appearance, had he claimed it for his own (it was surprisingly comfortable) and carried it upstairs to his lofty chambers. It had required no small amount of effort; scaling three sets of stairs, but he'd be damned if he was going to ask-  
  
His ears pricked up. A quiet footfall had sounded from the landing below, and Loki grinned at the attempt at concealment. He was renowned for his silver tongue, but less well lauded for his batlike hearing. Getting up softly, he padded over to the trapdoor in the loft, and sat down on the edge. Then he supported himself on both elbows and lowered his body into the space below, before giving a violent kick with one of his legs. A bellow of pain echoed from below, accompanied by a loud thump, and he stood up again, dusting off his hands with a pleased expression. Then he slammed the trapdoor shut and sat back down again, picking up a heavy tome without bothering to light the nearby lamp. After a few minutes he shut it with a snap, eyes falling shut. A frown creased his forehead as he began to replay the events of the last few months. Not for the first time.  
  
\--------------  
  
'You are joking, Mother.'  
  
Thor stared up at Frigga with an expression that none had seen since he was eight years old.  
  
'I most certainly am not.'  
  
'I will not do it.'  
  
'Yes, you shall. Or we shall have those feathers back.'  
  
A graceful hand gestured to his helmet. She had to hold back a snort of laughter at the puppyish look in her son's eyes as he clapped a hand to his head.  
  
'But Mother-'  
  
'No buts. This matter shall be resolved once and for all, and it shall be done fairly and with justice to both parties.'  
  
'I wish for peace between us more dearly than even you know, Mother,' Thor replied. 'However, setting aside my own... reservations, I cannot see how this 'solution' of yours will not simply make him despise me even more than he does already.'  
  
Frigga sighed, long fingers plucking at her dress. 'My darling, I simply cannot see any other way. Loki is rightly angry, although the havoc he wreaked on Midgard distressed me greatly. Your father and myself had many disagreements over his upbringing and although he is a wise man and I love him dearly, I stand by what I have always said; that he would bring this kingdom to its knees if he treated Loki Friggason as he has done. I was right, as usual.' The last statement was said in tone of modesty that utterly opposed its meaning.  
  
Thor sat down next to her feet with a groan of confusion.  
  
'I still do not understand fully how he was so mistreated. A few small insults regarding his seiðr-'  
  
Frigga's shoulders rose up to their full extent.  
  
'Thor Odinson, do not make me box your ears,' her voice rang out coldly. 'You are a man that will never know the insult of ergi, or argr, or any other term as such. It is a bad enough matter for women; yet we have born the cross of insult for centuries and we stand together.'  
  
'But Sif-'  
  
'Sif was fortunate enough to have your friendship.'  
  
'Loki never wanted to join us-'  
  
'And why was that?'  
  
Thor stopped for a minute, stunned.  
  
'I-I do not know. I always thought he preferred his own company.'  
  
'At times he did. But did you not tease him? Jest about his title of seiðmaðr? I know you meant no harm, my boy, but a thousand pinpricks will form a bullet hole.'  
  
Thor stayed silent. Something seemed to fade from his eyes.  
  
'Your brother was alone; abandoned by his brother, neglected by his father, and scorned by his gender for his talents. I cannot tell you the number of times that I saw him scared for his safety or reputation through no fault of his own, even when he was a little boy. How I wonder what he would have become if he had not had to seal himself away.'  
  
Thor stared up at his mother, ashen faced.  
  
'You are jesting with me.'  
  
'I am afraid I am not, sweetheart,' she replied softly, stroking a hand through his hair.  
  
Thor seemed to sink into himself, crumpling.  
  
'If I had known...'  
  
'Loki is proud, my love, he always was and, I think, ever will be,' Frigga replied pensievely. 'To come running to his brother would simply be confirmation of those insults given to him. Can you not see that?'  
  
'So all those tricks...all those lies and insults...'  
  
'Are as the swinging of a sword in your hands. I think the discovery of his heritage was the breaking point.'  
  
Thor stood up, suddenly.  
  
'What can I do?'

'What I have told you to.'

'He loathes me; he will barely speak to me; let alone forgive me or discuss why he tore Midgard apart-'  
  
'I do not think that is true.'  
  
'But how do you _know?_  
  
'I have my reasons. If only Sinfiötli-'  
  
Frigga's voice tailed off and she gazed into the distance for a second.  
  
'Who is Sinfiötli?' questioned Thor cautiously.  
  
'Never you mind,' she said, a little snappishly, and stopped looking out of the window. Thor looked more than a little bemused, but changed the subject. Frigga's tone made it clear there was to be no more said on the subject.  
  
'So what am I to do then? I do not even fully understand how this arrangement will work-'  
  
'You and Loki shall live together under what I believe the Midgardians call 'house arrest' for as long as it takes for you two to work out your differences. To ensure no injury, you shall leave Mjolnir with me. Loki,' she continued, ignoring the indignant expression spreading across Thor's face, 'shall have all his magic restricted, both for your safety and as a punishment for his transgressions. I will check up on you regularly, but mostly you will be left to yourselves unless you are seriously threatening each other. I have placed seiðr upon both of you that should make that impossible.'  
  
'You would have made a wonderful king, Mother,' Thor replied softly. 'This idea of yours is either utter madness, or sheer brilliance.'  
  
Frigga stood up, brushing the creases from her dress and smiling slightly.  
  
'I'd like to think so, dear. Certainly I have more of a head for matters such as these than your father has,' she said, crossing the room. 'Before he entered the Odinsleep, he was considering- hmm, what was it? Oh yes, 'tying you both to a tree and throwing you from the Bifrost', an interesting idea, but, I think, not entirely helpful. I will see you later, darling, I have matters to attend to.'  
  
Thor stared after his mother and wondered for a second, how the nobles of the court were going to stand before her. 


	2. Chapter 2

Frigga looked around appraisingly, one eyebrow raised.  
  
'Just place that over there, will you?' she said crisply to the two guards staggering under a huge bookshelf.  
  
'Well, Empress Frigga, is this all satisfactory?' inquired Tony Stark, gesturing around him to the decor that would not have looked out of place in a five star hotel.  
  
Steve Rogers rolled his eyes.  
  
'Tony, she's a queen, not an empress.'  
  
'Queen schmeen,' replied Tony offhandedly. 'I still say it could be bigger.'  
  
'Tony, you've built a four floor penthouse on an Asgardian mountain,' Natasha Romanoff said sarcastically. 'Aren't you happy yet?'  
  
'I'm happy, yeah, but I just feel like the wanted posters of Loki would add comedy vibe to it that it's currently lacking-'  
  
'Anyway,' Natasha cut in smoothly. 'We just wanted to lend a hand in any way that we could, Queen Frigga. And this idea is more condonable by our standards than what happened to him under Odin's rule, we have to say-'  
  
Frigga nodded.  
  
'This is far more beneficial for both parties, I think. And both you and Mr Jarvis have done a wonderful job, I must say. Please give him my thanks.'  
  
'Ah, we will,' Tony said, grinning. 'The walls are fireproof, just in case Reindeer Games throws a hissy fit.  
  
'Reindeer Games?' replied Frigga, brow furrowing.  
  
'Just his little joke,' Steve said quickly. 'We'll be off, now.'  
  
The three Avengers departed with the help of Stark's suit and were soon flying back to the palace, leaving Frigga staring up at their creation.  
  
Tony had explained to her that the apartment was apparently influenced by ideas such as 'minimalism' and the inner structure was apparently inspired by building called 'The Guggenheim' but square, not circular. The central living space stretched up to the rooftop, which was made of glass, and currently displaying the star-studded night sky. The walls were white, and two staircases lead up to the first floor. The first floor terrace encircled the walls, as did the terrace for the second and third. Finally, there was greenery growing along the top of the highest, and smallest terrace. The first floor, she had been shown, contained a small kitchen, a study, and a small bathroom. The second floor contained a large bathroom, a 'home cinema' room, and a larger kitchen. The third floor contained a library and a large bedroom. The fourth was a fully furnished loft space complete with skylight.  
  
Thor came up behind her.  
  
'Did I miss them?'  
  
'Yes,' she said, smiling. 'Just.'  
  
'Did you like them?'  
  
'Of course I did, they were all very charming. Their clothes were a little tight though.'  
  
'Ah, no more so than mine.'  
  
'I suppose not,' Frigga sighed, casting a disapproving eye over Thor's trousers. 'How has Loki taken the news?'  
  
'Screamed. Shouted. Nearly beheaded a guard with only his hands.'  
  
'To be expected, I suppose. He always was a clever boy. Still, Stark says that the sedative should kick in soon enough.'  
  
\----------------------------------------

  
Loki's eyes snapped open. Darkness surrounded him and instead of the continual din of other prisoners, there was a heavy, unbroken silence. The realisation that _he was in the wrong place_ hit him in the gut. He sat up with a snarl, cutting a gesture into the air, before falling out of bed and onto a hard wooden floor, hitting his head with a loud 'thunk'. He lay there for a minute, stunned.

After a while he managed to sit up gingerly, hand rubbing his head, which had already begun to swell. Hissing slightly with pain and wincing, he made a different gesture with his left hand.

Nothing happened.

He stared at it in shock.

Then tried it again. And again. Then tried to summon a clone.

Nothing. Instead, a curious and unpleasant feeling was becoming prevalent, as if a numbing liquid was curling through the veins of his arms. The tips of his fingers felt blocked. He tried once more and gasped as the progression of numbness sped up rapidly, he could no longer feel his arms, they were cold and completely immobile, the sensation was curling around his very _heart_ -

The next twenty minutes were spent heaving onto the floor and trying to regulate his breathing. It took nearly an hour for the sensation to subside.

He came out of shock just as dawn began to tint the windows pale blue. The cool wood of the flooring was pressed painfully against his cheekbone and he ached all over. His seiðr was gone, stoppered up inside his body and turned against him.

For the first time in centuries, Loki felt truly, indefensibly _weak_.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After a long while, he stood up. Then walked aimlessly back and forth across the room. That was until he caught sight of himself in a mirror and stopped dead. His face was flat white. Deep shadows traversed below his eyes and jawline, the remnants of unhealing bruises and sleepness nights. He hadn't seen his own face since before he fell-

_darkness, the sound of flesh tearing under creatures that should have remained as nightghasts, the searing heat and sheer volume of sounds, cries shrieks screams pleas howls begging-_  
 

 

He was curled up against the wall, head buried in his knees, nails raking down the walls. Loki cursed as he saw blood begin to ooze out of the split tissue around his cuticles, split open by the leverage of his nails. He almost called upon his seiðr before he remembered and screamed out another excration. Snarling, he ripped a piece from one of the sheets and wound it so tightly around his fingers that the veins stood out, knotting it savagely.

 

It took about fifteen minutes for him to discern that every object in the room could not be broken, torn, ripped, shredded, pierced, lacerated or damaged in any way, shape or form.

He was a _god_ , by the Norns! This was unthinkable, his seiðr gone...aside from killing him, it could not be removed, how had they-

He paused, breath coming in pants still, as his eyes alighted on the flash of gold encircling his ankle. Within a second, he had pulled his bare foot up onto his opposing knee and scanned the runes set into it hungrily. Dwarven magic, usually puny compared to his own but without his seiðr it would stay put. He should have refused to eat, _why_ had he not refused to eat, if he had done then they could not have put the cursed thing on him while he lay in that fogged sleep, and now he was powerless, stuck here until he begged for forgiveness.

Well, he would _not_. He never would. And they had unknowingly provided him with his strength to resist- Thor. Yes, his seiðr was gone, his life force had been ripped away from him. But as long as Thor remained, one look at that smug, golden face would snap his mouth shut, stopper any admission of defeat in his throat. And the idiot had to wear thin eventually, soon enough Thor would realise that Loki would never submit, would never bow down to him, or forgive him for that matter. The Golden King could not spend his life locked away with his miscreant little brother, where would Asgard be left without its beloved ruler?

Loki could wait. He had always been able to wait.

 

Slowly, he began to calm down, thinking matters through carefully.  It seemed quite comfortable here. He had mountains of books, he had a proper bed once more, instead of that lice-wridden pallet. Oh, this would be far better than 'endurable.'  There were pictures on the walls, a desk to write at, and a door set into the wall that contained- ah, thank the Norns, a _bathroom_ , at long last.

It seemed to be fashioned from slate and glass, predominantly, with a large pool set into the floor, made from some jade-green stone. With a sigh, he set the plug into the oversized bath and turned all the taps on. It was strange how all other privelidges that had been forsaken to him he had almost forgotten, but on the nights when the screaming both inside and outside his dreams had become too loud to bear, this was the one thing he longed for, a stupid, superficial desire, his one desire. Except for- for the embrace of gentle arms and a long silk gown-

_She is not your mother_ , he thought angrily, ripping off his prison rags and plunging a foot into scalding water. Grimacing, he lowered himself fully in, hissing at the overwhelming heat and the steam billowing around him. Loki let his eyes fall closed, and rubbed his hands over his face. The hot water was stinging his split knuckles and the larger of the various cuts over his body. With a wince, he sat up and glanced down at his torso. His muscle was still there, just, but his ribs were protruding sharply and pebbled with blue, his tendons weak.

Slowly, he fumbled for the washcloth on the side of the bath and held it to the deep wound stretching across his chest. Gritting his teeth, he began to gently clean the darkly crusted mess away, staring as more blood eddied out into the bathwater. The process should not have been so painful as it was. Twice he had to stop and rest before continuing. He considered bitterly the fact that it was probably the loss of his powers that was affecting him so.

Finally the wound was clean and bleeding only sluggishly. Quickly, he washed the rest of his body and massaged some gooey product into his hair before rinsed it out again, wrinkling his nose at the overwhelming scent of lime. Then he heaved himself out of the bath and let the water drain away.

There was only one injury he could not tend to.

Softly, he let a hand trail over his back. Even the lightest touch of his fingers seemed to prompt needles to shoot through his nerves. The skin was blistered, peeling and ruined.

Burned beyond recognition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some of you might have seen the 'loki was tortured using heat' theory on tumblr, and I'm kind of running w/ that at the moment, it just seems such a good headcanon to use. hope you're enjoying it so far. xx


	3. Chapter 3

Many years before:  
  
Asgard was practically shimmering with heat. It made the women's dresses cling to them, caused fights to break out between friends, and brothers to irritate each other- even more than they usually did. Even those brothers who should be an example to everyone in Asgard...  
  
'Loki!' Thor shouted. 'Stop hiding! I know you're in here somewhere. Now give me back my sword, I know it was you who stole it!' He stomped over the dry, brittle grass towards the apple orchard, sneezing at the golden pollen that hung almost visibly in the air. Although the rest of the country was withering beneath the heat, Idunn's orchard was as leafy as ever. But to Thor, the silvery whisperings of the leaves just sounded like Loki's mischeivous laughter. Every time he was certain that his brother was hiding behind the nearest tree-trunk, there was nobody there.  
  
In fact, his brother wasn't on the ground at all. Tears of laughter leaked from green eyes as the trickster stared down through the branches, a hand clamped over his mouth to stop a howl of laughter from erupting. If he moved forward a tad, he could just reach-  
  
'LOKI!' came the enraged bellow from below as an apple bounced off his head. Thor spun around and nearly tripped over his own feet in his haste to find his errant sibling and thump him. Loki was almost hysterical by this point, using his seiðr to propel an entire bushel at Thor, shaking with hilarity as Thor fell over stunned, bombarded with golden missiles, this was wonderful, that would teach him not to ruin Loki's books-  
  
His heart leapt into his mouth as he lost his footing and began to fall, oh, Thor was going to _kill_ him-  
  
Then he looked around, utterly bemused. He was floating in the air between branches, untethered by any visible means, as if he was lying in water. Loki looked around- and nearly screamed. Sitting casually next to him was an elf, a pale, long haired, icy blonde elf.   
  
He opened his mouth to speak, but the boy brought a finger to his lips. Loki stared at him. No-one save his mother had ever told him to be quiet before. He opened his mouth again to say so, but before he could, cool fingers covered his mouth. Quite frankly stunned, he stayed silent, staring in utter shock at the intruder.   
  
Then a noise came from below and he flicked his gaze downwards again. Thor had hauled himself back up, and after a few cursory glances around and a threatening growl or two, he began to trudge back the way he had came.   
  
The cool hand receded from his mouth again.  
  
Loki stared at the elf again. He was dressed in strange clothes, almost like those his mother would wear in material, but fluid and cut in the style of his own riding clothes. He rather liked them. Not that he liked _anything_ about this rude- rude _elf_ , he reminded himself.   
  
'Are you Ljósálfr?' he asked curiously as a twitch of the boy's fingers righted him, and he perched himself near the tree trunk.   
  
The boy nodded, quite gracefully seen as he was seated on an exceedingly precarious looking branch.  
  
'I am of the party from Alfheim. We arrived this afternoon, surely you saw our arrival?'   
  
Loki shook his head.   
  
'I did not. That _idiot_ you just saw, my brother, has been chasing me all afternoon, I have had no respite for it.'  
  
The boy's eyebrows quirked upwards slightly.  
  
'That was the great Thor of Asgard?'  
  
The slight emphasis on the word 'great' brought a flush to Loki's cheeks.  
  
'Well, he will be, one day! He just isn't...yet,' he said, a little embarrassedly.   
  
'I am sorry,' smiled the elf, looking as not sorry as it was possible to be. 'I meant no offence. It is strange, is it not, how it is our place, and only our place, to insult our siblings? I simply found it amusing that my first sight of the princes of Asgard was of them shouting and throwing things at each other. This weather seems to get the best of us all,' he said, yawning lightly and wiping a hand across his brow.   
  
Loki nodded, brow furrowing in irritation. 'I do not usually defend him, believe me. He has seemed to make it his business this summer to aggravate me in every way possible.'  
  
'Have you not set him aflame yet?' the boy asked casually. 'I found that method to be most effective when faced with a similar problem caused by _my_ older brother.'  
  
'I tried,' Loki said ruefully. 'But mother took away my curse book.'  
  
'Ever the problem to us seiðmaðr, interfering mothers,' sighed the elf.  
  
Loki stared at him.   
  
'Are you truly a seiðmaðr?' he asked urgently. 'I knew the elves had some degree of natural magic, but I have never known another to possess the same powers as I do-'  
  
He noticed the slightly amused look the elf was giving him and stopped talking. 'What?' he asked defensively.   
  
'Nothing,' the boy laughed. 'Only that you are so interested.'  
  
'I'm not,' Loki said irritably. 'If you find it me that amusing to listen to I'll happily leave you to laugh by yourself.'  
  
He was about to swing himself down from the branch when the boy caught him, face serious once more.  
  
'I was not laughing at you,' he said solemnly. 'I promise.'  
  
Loki stilled for a second. The elf continued. 'I was only smiling because to me the idea is strange, that we are both seiðmaðr and yet we primarily use our talents to infuriate our siblings. Great sorcerers undoubtedly think alike.'  
  
A flicker of a smile crossed Loki's face.   
  
'What is your name?' he inquired.  
  
'Sinfiötli, but you can call me Siftli. It's quite a mouthful, after all.'  
  
'And- forgive me,' Loki continued, a little rushed. 'But who exactly are you?'  
  
'I am Lord Helgi's son. He is part of King Hiörvard's retinue while he visits,' explained Siftli. 'However, I think I shall be stuck here all summer, for all they do in court is go round and round in circles with _your_ father, and force me to listen. It is most tedious.'  
  
'Do you not find politics interesting?' asked Loki, brow furrowed slightly.  
  
'Oh, I do, when they relate to matters that affect me,' smiled Siftli. 'But when I am sat in a puddle of my own sweat on the most uncomfortable chair in all the Nine Realms,'- Loki snorted- 'it begins to wear on me.'  
  
Loki plucked an apple from the tree and took a bite out of it, speaking with his mouth full.   
  
'So you will become part of his retinue? When you come of age?'  
  
'If I do not cause an international scandal, then yes,' Siftli yawned delicately. 'Now, I say we leave this tree, lovely though it is, and go in search of some nourishment. I trust you know where there is food to steal?'  
  
'They do not call me the mischief-maker for nothing,' Loki replied, as he dropped catlike to the ground, his companion alighting beside him a few seconds later. The red sun was already sinking into the clouds, burnishing them with gold and purple, but the heat was still scorching. Its source shot streaks of colour across the ice of Siftli's hair, which hung to his waist. Loki glanced at it diffidently as they made their way back towards the palace, before averting his eyes.

\------------------------------------------------------------  
  
That evening at dinner, the youngest brother of the royal family was nowhere to be seen. Thor glowered into his stew as Frigga handed him bread, absentmindedly knocking over his wine glass in the process.  
  
'Oh, I am sorry, dear,' she clucked. Thor waved the servants away and muttered an 'it's fine' to his mother, who looked at him curiously.   
  
'Have you and Loki had another argument?' she asked knowingly.   
  
'We have not had an argument! It was his fault, as usual.'  
  
Frigga rested her chin on her palm and smiled at him.   
  
'What has happened _now_ , darling? Surely the incident with the spear-throwing last week was enough?'  
  
'Well,' Thor began, puffing himself up slightly, 'he stole my sword, just because of that stupid book. I said sorry, didn't I? And then he-'  
  
Frigga's gaze clouded over a little. Thor stopped.  
  
'What?'  
  
'That wouldn't happen to be the sword currently stuck at the top of the Eastern tower now, would it?' she asked delicately. Thor stared at her.   
  
'Has it a silver handle and gold blade?'  
  
'I believe it has,' Frigga sighed, although there was a twitch around her mouth that Thor luckily did not notice. Instead, he stood up with a shout, grabbing his wine glass and turned to stride off towards the exit.   
  
'I'll string him up by his-'  
  
The doors at the end of the otherwise empty dining hall flew open. Frigga rose alongside Thor as two figures made their way quickly towards the high table.  
  
Loki smiled, out of breath, as he reached them, then gestured to his companion, who swept into a perfectly executed bow.  
  
'This is Siftli, Mother,' he said brightly. 'Thor,' he nodded in a darker tone. 'I asked him to dinner as the kitchens couldn't spare anything, I hope you don't mind-'  
  
'Not at all,' said Frigga, slightly bewildered. '-please, sit down, my dears.'   
  
Thor glared at Loki as soon as his mother began to serve Siftli. Loki simply gave him a mocking smile.   
  
'Apple, Thor?'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm borrowing names from the poetic eddas, none of the elven characters have any place in the actual Norse myths.


	4. Chapter 4

Loki prodded once more against the blistered, leaking skin of his back and bit his lip. Some of the burns were so deep they looked to have scored down to the muscle. But he could not say anything, otherwise questions would be raised about where he had got them.   
  
He sat down gingerly onto the bathmat, taking his hands away from the damaged flesh, and opened the cupboards beneath the sink, rooting through various bottles without any idea what he was actually looking for. Finally, he came across an unmarked pot. Unscrewing the lid, he regarded the semi-transparent, greenish gel inside and sniffed it, immediately recognizing mint and a few other herbs used for healing purposes.   
  
He rubbed a little onto the back of his hand, and let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. It felt like ice, the cooling sensation sinking down into his tissue almost immediately. Standing up, he glanced at the burns over his shoulder in the mirror. The wounds were mostly clean after his bath, but he had not been able to do anything about the flush of infection surrounding them. Gently, he began to apply the gel over the less painful patches, until they were mostly cooled and anaesthetised. Then he gritted his teeth and worked it into the raw, split tissue. Again, he had to stop more than once to regain his breath or bite into his hand to stop himself from screaming. It took the best part of half an hour and he was shaking by the time he had finished.   
  
Once he was done, he placed the pot by the sink. Then walked stiffly back into the bedroom with a thick bathrobe flung over him, in search of clothes. After spotting a closet opposite his bed, he crossed to it and pulled it open. Loki's eyes narrowed as he saw the pile of unfamiliar clothes inside. He began to leaf through them, slowly, and then faster and faster. There was nothing that even faintly resembled his old clothes, no armour or anything like it. The styles were recognisable, those of the Elves and Midgardians, but all were soft, semi-casual. Most importantly, unprotective.   
  
Curse Frigga to the highest heavens. This was her doing, he knew it, she knew he would not venture out of this room until he wore something presentable. And he couldn't exactly wander around naked looking for clothes with Thor downstairs. With a grudging look towards his prison clothes- which were falling apart at the seams- he pulled a garment out of the pile and dressed, before regarding himself in the looking glass. It was not _tight_ , exactly, but it clung to him in a way that was most aggravating, nipping in at the waist before falling into trousers. Long, worn leather boots and a woolen overshirt made it less offensive.   
  
Loki sat on the bed for a long while, running a brush through his damp hair as he pondered his next move. He debated attempting to stab Thor with the pen and ink he'd been given, but threw that plan aside. After all, at least he would be allowed to send letters while he was here. No good cutting off your nose to spite your face. And Thor would probably just weep as a result, it wouldn't achieve a thing- no, he would have to resort to other tactics.   
  
A smile spread over Loki's face suddenly.  
  
\--------------------------  
  
Thor gave a yawn as he woke up, bleary eyed. The overwhelming whiteness of the walls and the sunlight high above disorientated him for a minute, until he sat up and remembered when he was. He cast a furtive look around for Loki, who was nowhere to be seen. Then he stretched his arms out wide, cracking his knuckles an shaking the stiffness from his joints. He had slept in his clothes, obviously, after sitting on the sofa the night before and going through all possible situations that could arise from their confinement, to no avail. He bent over and rested his elbows on his knees for a second, thanking himself for wearing Midgardian denim jeans and button down shirt instead of his customary armour. By this point, not only would he be exhausted, but his limbs would have felt petrified too.   
  
A flash of movement from the second floor terrace caught his eye and he jumped up, sprinting up the stairs and then slowing self-consciously as he reached the top of them. Trying to steady his breathing, he walked into the kitchen. Then stopped in his tracks.  
  
Loki was pulling various bits of food out of the cupboards and piling them into his arms. But it was not that that made him stare so unabashedly.  
  
Loki's robe had slipped down over one shoulder pulling his hair with it, and in doing so revealed that the skin was stretched so tight it was possible to see the white of the bone shining through. By the Norns, Thor could see the vertebrae of his spine standing out like stones, Loki's neck looked barely wide enough to support his head-  
  
Loki whipped around.  
  
'What are you staring at?' he snapped. Then shut his mouth firmly.  
  
'N-nothing,' Thor said, stumbling over his words. 'I didn't mean-'  
  
Loki pushed past him roughly, pulling his robe back up, and made his way back upstairs with Thor hot on his heels.  
  
'Loki,' he panted. 'Please. I just want to talk, can't we-'  
  
Loki shinned up the ladder to his room in a speed that defied human belief.  
  
\-----------------------  
  
In the next week, almost the exact same occurance occured every morning. Loki would make his way downstairs for breakfast as quiet as a mouse. Thor would have fallen into an uneasy sleep the night before, trying to wait up for him, and would rush to the loft only to find the latter firmly drawn up. One morning, he almost caught Loki, and after that he never caught sight of him. It seemed he alternated between the evenings and early mornings, so Thor began to wait outside Loki's room. The inhabitant soon put a stop to that by dropping heavy objects onto his brother's head.   
  
Thor needed a masterplan, and soon. Frigga had been very unhelpful, insisting that he must find a solution himself. But there was no way, he could never catch Loki out of his-  
  
Thor blinked. Perhaps he didn't need to.   
  
Slowly, he padded up to the third floor, and quietly, secretively, shut himself inside a cupboard.  
  
\-----------------------  
  
'Did you see the look on your brother's face?' howled Siftli, holding onto Loki's shoulder to keep himself upright. Loki nodded, crying with laughter and half-collapsed onto the floor. They had just skidded into an empty corridor, and had sat down, unable to go any further after being chased across the whole right wing of the palace, both from exhaustion and hilarity.  
  
'And then- when he said-'  
  
'I simply do not understand, Loki, why you must be so immature!'  
  
A fresh wave of laughter coursed through them and Siftli sank down the wall next to Loki, wheezing lightly.  
  
'As if he even knows the meaning of mature,' said Loki bitterly, out of breath. 'He's so stupid he doesn't even understand why the letters on his shield become spelled backwards when he looks in the mirror. Oaf,' he spat loudly.   
  
Siftli smiled sympathetically.   
  
'I think he loves you really. But he acts like a jealous, overbearing idiot at times, I must say.'  
  
'He does not love me,' Loki scoffed loudly. 'The only reason he's ever seen with me is to compare the size of his arms to mine.'  
  
Siftli gave a stifled laugh.   
  
'That may be true.'  
  
Somewhere, the bells tolled one o'clock. Siftli sat up at once. 'Oh, Norns,' he swore loudly, panic flitting across his features. 'Loki, I must-'  
  
'Go,' Loki urged, still laughing slightly behind his hand. 'It is late, I know.'  
  
'I will see you tomorrow,' the elf proclaimed, before darting back the way they had came. Loki gazed after him with a fond smile. Then stared as he saw his companion sprinting back towards him.  
  
'What are you-' he began, rising, but instead of a push to his shoulders to prompt him to sprint away too, he felt a slim body pressing into his and cool lips on his own. Then, like a gust of wind, they were gone, and he was disappearing around the corner again.  
  
Loki sat down again, eyes wide. It took him about ten minutes to get himself to stand up and get moving. Even princes weren't allowed to wander corridors by themselves in the middle of the night. Even when they'd just been kissed by-  
  
He rounded the next corner and darted back, heart racing.

 It took a few seconds for him to dare to glance around the corner again. But when he did, his gaze became transfixed.

Two people were standing in it, but they weren't talking, or laughing, or even arguing. Instead, they were pressed up against the wall, limbs entangled, clothes rumpled and tainted gold by the candlelight. It was a man and a woman, he faintly recognized the face of the chambermaid as one that he had seen before, but she had not looked like this, her lips had not been parted, nor so pink, nor swollen, her eyes had not been closed, nor had her dark hair been sticking to her forehead with sweat. And she had certainly not had her dress pulled up around her thighs while moans spilled from her mouth, answering the groans of the man-  
  
Loki stepped backwards as if he had been stabbed. The man had gold hair and broad shoulders, generic characteristics, and if it had been any other he would not been able to recognize the perpetrator. But when you have known someone's body since birth, it becomes unmistakable.  
  
The man with his hands up the girl's dress, the man thrusting into her, the man who was currently _groaning into her ear_  
  
Was none other than his brother.


	5. Chapter 5

Weak sunlight danced insistantly over Loki's face, illuminating tangled eyelashes and a slight scratch across one cheek. His eyelids fluttered. Then wrinkled as he realised the source of his disturbance. With a moan of irritation, he stretched, catlike, under the thin silk sheets, and thumped his chin onto the pillows before finally opening his eyes. He shook his hair out of his eyes, noting ruefully that there was already a slight kink to the ends of it. The humidity would give him fluffed up curls before the end of the day. _Someone_ would be taking the opportunity of yanking them hard whenever he passed. 

But his brooding did not last lost. This was a result of the alluring smell of baking pastry wafting in through the open window, which caused his stomach to growl even before he'd fully registered the temptation. In a second he was stepping onto the thick bilgesnipe fur rug on the floor below his four poster, and stepping over to the wardrobe, before pulling on a pair of dark green riding britches and a white shirt with a blackworked collar that left his collarbones bare. He looked appraisingly in the mirror before he took his leave, and quickly unbuttoned another button. 

Breakfast was a surprisingly languid meal, or had been, for the last week at least. Odin had already taken his and joined the council, who seemed to be in session all day. This would have been bad news for his plans of meeting Siftli, however, the latter had sent a clone to sit in for him; complete with the customary 'dying-of-boredom' expression that its counterpart usually wore. So it was only himself, Thor and Frigga. 

Loki could not quite meet his brother's eyes as he passed him the fruit-bowl, flushing a little at the idea of where his hands had last been. Thor did not notice, of course, simply took the proffered item and began eating again with renewed gusto. 

'Are you sparring today; Thor?' inquired Frigga. 

'Yes, Hogun and Volstagg are coming to meet me later,' Thor replied as enthusiasticaly as he always did when questioned about his training. The effect was slightly ruined by the mouthful of pastry he spoke through. 

'I had wondered if you wanted to join your father in the council meetings,' Frigga continued. 'Afterall, you are the oldest son, and Loki has attended far more matters of state that you.' 

Loki almost laughed at the torn look that spread across his sibling's face. 

'Would it be of great importance if I did not?' Thor queried cautiously. 

'No,' Frigga sighed. 'But a king must learn how to speak and argue publicly, must learn-'

'How to read,' muttered Loki under his breath. Thor glared at him, then looked back at his mother, his jaw set a little firmer than it had been before.

'In fact, Mother, I do wish to go. Father could probably use the company, and you are right, if I am to be king, I should know how to handle matters of state.'

Loki raised his eyebrows but said nothing. A large goblet was currently in Thor's hand and it looked quite heavy. Frigga, however, looked frankly puzzled at the acceptance of her offer.

'You truly wish to go to council?'

'I don't see why it's such a shock to you-' Thor said, sounding a little hurt, cheeks colouring. Frigga backtracked quickly, smiling warmly at him. 

'It isn't!' she insisted, apologeticly. 'I'm glad you are going. You are right; I do worry about your father shut up in there all day. It may be necessary but it puts him in a foul mood, I must say.'

'Like he isn't already,' Loki said sardonically. 'The last two times I met him in the corridor he has had his nose buried in papers and ignored me completely; when I tried to talk to him that damned bird, Muninn or whatever its name is, bit me.'

'He came to watch my tournament yesterday,' remarked Thor, purposefully offhand. 

'Yes, I hear thousands gather to watch you get repeatedly hit on the head,' Loki shot back. 'It must be great entertainment.'

'Loki,' warned Frigga. But the goblet did not get thrown, instead Thor smiled obsequiously at his mother (glaring at Loki), before replying airily that there was 'no need to apologise, his brother always liked his little joke.'

Loki returned the smile with all the charm of a snake.

'I think Thor speaking in court is a _fantastic_ idea,' he began. 'Why, myself and Siftli are attending this afternoon as well. What a coincidence. Perhaps we will learn something from your great knowledge of politics. You have been studying, haven't you?'

Thor shifted in his seat slightly, looking a little nervous.

\------------------

The afternoon sun blazed down over the roof of the courtroom from late morning until late afternoon, and as a result the air inside was unspeakably hot and stuffy. Even the most stiff collared senators were fanning themselves exhaustedly, Loki's hair had, as predicted, sprung up into soft but utterly unmanageable curls, while Siftli's feet were tapping relentlessly under the desk. Loki had a mind to pinch him, the repetitious rhythm was most annoying. 

It was odd; the air had been a little tense between them since the previous night. Loki had been so shocked by both the events he had witnessed and partaken in that he had not really had time to mull either of them over fully, and although he was usually quite good at making decisions, these kind of problems just seemed a bit fuzzy. The kiss had not been unpleasant, at all... But he had no idea how to proceed, so had settled for giving Siftli a shy hug when they had met that morning. It had not seemed to do much damage. 

But the sight that had really captured his attention (and had done ever since the boredom had started to sink in) was that of his brother, who was slumped over the desk, blinking like a stunned horse with sweat glistening on his nose. He had unwisely insisted on wearing his armour to attend, and now he looked like he was regretting it. Although Loki had made a few small points earlier (Siftli more), he almost felt sorry for Thor, who looked completely out of his depth and quite upset at his lack of understanding. After all, he reflected, Thor had never been bad at something before. This was the first time the Golden Prince might be feeling a tad dull. 

Then he remembered Thor's jests concerning his ineptitude with a spear the previous week, and promptly quashed any thoughts of a truce. 

He was distracted from his inner mutterings by long fingers pushing a note across the desk to him. Written in an elegant hand were decidedly unelegant suggestions of where certain members of the council could go and what they could do to themselves, along with scathing depictions of their dress and a few fairly unflattering caricatures. Loki accidentally let out a tiny snort at a particularly accurate one of the senator sitting directly behind them, which in turn drew a disapproving look from the man sitting in front of him. Loki stuck his nose in the air and stared back until the man broke eye contact. Siftli huffed slightly in amusement. 

It seemed like hours before the meeting was adjourned. Loki resisted the temptation to ask Thor loudly exactly what his opinions were on paragraph six of Vanaheim-Jotunheim treaty, settling instead for slipping his arm through Siftli's and walking a little closer to him than usual. He was pleased to see a light flush settle over the elf's pale cheeks.

Eventually, they arrived at one of the doors leading out into the palace gardens. A sliver of shadowed green was visible through the crack between them, but Loki wasn't paying attention to it. His heart was jumping strangely fast at the continued brush of Siftli's legs against his own as they walked together. With a quick glance around to check that they were not being spied upon, he lead him gently into the dark, sheltered alcove under the stairs, ignoring the bemused look spreading over his companion's face as he opened a door set into the wall. 

Inside was a darkened room, a storage for coats, Loki surmised, as soft fur brushed against his cheek. He pulled Siftli insistently after him as he stepped forward- and went flying, tripping over an errant cape. Strong hands caught him about the waist and set him back on his feet again. Loki's breathing almost stopped at the firm grip encircling his torso. Even in the deep shadow, he could see the faint glow of Siftli's face, features in shade that only served to made them more stark and sensous. With a rush of boldness, he jumped forward and pressed his mouth onto the one that had kissed him so hurriedly the night before. A laugh shuddered through his companion at Loki's impudent enthusiasm, all teeth and too-quick breath, and with slow press of body against body, he pushed Loki backwards into the furs. It was evident who was more experienced of the two; and who had the control, in a few minutes all tentativeness had vanished. Siftli's hands skimmed under his shirt a little as he coaxed Loki to open his mouth, giving a firm but somehow comforting lick to his tongue. It fanned the little blaze that had been smouldering somewhere in his midsection, and suddenly he desperately wanted more, didn't want Siftli to stop-

But he had. Loki gave a little whimper as he pulled away, and even in the dark he could tell Siftli was smiling.

'As much as I would love to continue,' he said quietly, a little out of breath, 'I absolutely have to go. I want to see you as soon as I can. Tomorrow, at the Green Garden?'

Loki managed a 'yes' and sank back against the wall as he left, feeling a little as if he had sat out in the sun for too long. It took ten minutes before he recalled that his mother would be expecting him at dinner, and he almost tripped over again as he ran to meet her. 

\----------------------------------------

Odin was once again absent from the evening meal, and so it was only the two boys and Frigga dining together. Loki arrived into the private dining room out of breath and flushed, to which Frigga gave him an odd look. Thankfully, she said nothing, and the first two courses passed with relative peace. 

But it was not to last.

Thor had been looking unusually sombre for the entirety of the meal, unengaged with the polite conversation that Loki and Frigga had been making. His plate was still filled when the servants came to carry away the plates and set out dessert, a confection of summer fruit, light meringue and whipped cream. Frigga gazed at him with concern.

'My darling, are you ill? You have hardly eaten anything.'

Thor shook his head, looking irritable.

'I am not unwell. Simply not hungry.'

'You must be unwell, not to eat like a pig,' Loki remarked. 'I do not think I have ever seen you refuse food.'

'You don't know everything, Loki,' Thor muttered. 'Now pass me the wine.'

'Please,' Loki replied mockingly, passing him the flagon with overexaggerated effort. However, his hand slipped on the glass due to the wine that had run down the sides, and it slipped from his fingers, falling onto Thor's outstretched palm from quite a height. It broke with a loud clink and shatters fell onto the tablecloth, however that was far from the worst of it. Thor gave a loud shout of pain and thumped his other hand onto the table so hard one of its legs broke; a large glass splinter was embedded in his upturned palm. Loki gasped, staring at the blood oozing from around the wound with trepidation.

'B-brother- I am so sorry, let me-'

'ENOUGH!' shouted Thor, springing up and cradling his damaged appendage to his chest, face twisted with pain as the blood started to drip from his hand. 'You are so clumsy, Loki, no wonder you cannot fight, you can barely hold a glass without injuring your own brother-'

Loki's expression hardened slightly, but his words forcedly polite.

'I said I am sorry. Would you like me to heal it for-'

'Get your magic away from me, I wouldn't touch it with a bargepole.'

'At least I know how to heal instead of injure and kill,' Loki replied defensively.

'About the only thing you know how to do.'

'I know how to speak in court, which is far more than you do. You acted like an impatient child all day- oh, I'm sorry, you still are one. Father would be ashamed,' Loki spat, irritation growing on his face.

'You-you...' Thor seemed at a loss for an insult deadly enough, a vein standing out in his temple and his jaw working as he stood still.

'What? Run out of words? Five is a small number to pick from, after all-' Loki sneered.

A spiteful grin spread over Thor's face.

One sentance left his lips. It was quiet, restrained. Almost inoffensive. But the effect it produced was immediate.

'At least I'm not an _ergi_.'

Loki's face went paper white. 

Then Loki turned, shoulders held high, walked down the dais and out of the room. 

Frigga stared at Thor, opened her mouth to say something to him- and then closed it again.

'Mother, I didn't...' he began, suddenly conscious that he had made a great mistake. But his mother was already gone, sweeping out of the hall after his brother without a backwards glance.


	6. Chapter 6

It took two hours of crouching in a stuffy, pitch-black cupboard before Loki finally emerged from the loft. By this time, Thor had almost fallen asleep, and was so startled at the footsteps outside that he jumped, knocking his head painfully and almost giving the game away. This cupboard was not intended to house six foot five Norse gods, obviously. He waited with baited breath as the footfalls paused momentarily, his breathing and pounding heartbeat sounding unimaginably loud to his own ears. He breathed a sigh of relief as the footsteps resumed, padded away down the stairs. His brother obviously had other matters occupying his mind than investigating creaks from the furniture. No wonder.  
  
He waited about a minute before emerging cautiously. Then he bolted up the ladder as quietly as he could, alive with success as he rolled onto the loft floor. Swiftly, he took the key from the lock and placed it into his pocket, before settling himself in behind the wardrobe. From here, he would be able to see when his brother returned, and lock them both in before Loki could escape.  
  
He sat and waited (again) for about ten minutes before his heart jumped slightly. His brother truly was as silent as a cat, he had not even heard him on the landing below but now a slim, black-clothed figure was emerging from the hole in the floor.  
  
With a sigh, the figure stood up fully and stretched, turning a little into the light so that his profile was visible. He gave a small yawn, before tossing his armful of food onto the bed and walking towards the bathroom.  
  
In an instant, Thor was charging towards the trapdoor. Loki whipped around with a feral snarl and leapt backwards across the room with the speed of a panther, but he was too late; the assailant had already locked the door and pushed the key into his pocket. There was a second of comprehension as Loki followed his movements; then his green eyes narrowed and Thor saw his decision before he made a single move.  
  
Loki launched himself at his brother, nails raking over any and all patches of unprotected skin, fists tearing at golden hair, sharp elbows aimed his belly. It was like being attacked by a stray, because without the composed protection of his seiðr they were no longer easily matched, all Loki had was the flailing, emotion draining strength of the desperate. Thor was going to win, and it was painfully simple to do so after Loki's strength eventually began to wane- pin his wrists down, sit on his chest and let him kick and wriggle viciously.   
  
Loki still didn't give up easily; there were a good twenty minutes of struggling before he began to accept defeat. Eventually he looked up at Thor, sneering and panting loudly, green eyes glittering with a hint of the madness he'd seen all those months ago in New York, and something else, something almost like...fear.   
  
Then it was gone; and all he could divine from them was the animal impulse to fight, narrowly avoiding a bite to his forearm with seemed to be the last burst of Loki's strength. Then his brother's head thudded back onto the floor in a mess of dark hair and pink cheeks, pale throat exposed, lithe as a snake. Guilt stole into Thor's heart as he saw the murky bruise already blooming across it, which he knew was the work of his own hands.   
  
'Come to gloat, brother? To mock?' Loki spoke quietly, staring vacantly at the ceiling. Thor moved forward, shaking his head.  
  
'I have not,' he replied. 'Simply to see my brother.'  
  
'Now you have me.' Loki replied listlessly, hand wavering by his side. His eyes flickered across Thor's for a second and the observee flinched back. Loki's gaze so full of hatred that it seemed to sear Thor's skin with its intensity. Yet something twisted inside his stomach at the passivity behind it. Loki had truly given up. Completely.   
  
'Are you satisfied? Will you go?' Loki said, still avoiding his gaze.  
  
'I will not go,' Thor replied, ignoring the exhalation of frustration that followed his pronouncement. 'I do this not because I wish to force myself upon your company, but for your own sake, Loki.' Thor stared worriedly as Loki's head lolled suddenly to one side, then froze as weak, bitter laughter began to spill from his lips, rumbling through his   
  
'You think I jest.'  
  
'Oh, I do not make mockery of your _intentions_ , King Thor,' Loki heaved, still with a flicker of a smile on his thin lips, 'for they are undoubtedly as golden and goodhearted as they ever were. I laugh rather at your insistant, unending belief that your brother is here still.' Loki broke off suddenly, wracked with coughs, pushing Thor's hands away when he tried to prop him up and carrying on regardless. 'He is not. He died, all those years ago, because he was stupid enough to believe that there was still some mercy in the universe, that his thread would be cut quickly; but there is none, the Norns wrapped it into knots and picked at it until it frayed, too cruel to let it break. Instead, they only snapped his wits so he became what you see now, a murderer, a liar, and most of all, an utter, utter fool.'  
  
Thor's eyes had filled without his knowledge and before he knew it his hand was tenderly curling around Loki's jawline, thumb stroking in an age-old attempt to comfort. It showed how weak Loki was that he didn't flinch away, although his eyes narrowed tiredly.   
  
'I will always love you, _always_ ,' Thor spoke, slowly and sincerely. 'Even if I wanted to hate you I could not. The Norns may cut the thread of our lives, may weave us into the the darkest, most terrible tapestries, but there will always be a golden thread in the darkness that binds us together, warp and weft. You have been damaged, but I promise you, I will not leave until you are whole again.'  
  
When he looked down, Loki's eyes were closed and his breathing was slow, exhausted from their battling. Thor gave a sigh, then picked his brother up as gently as he could. His limbs flopped like those of a rag doll and even to Thor's strength he seemed to weigh less than a feather, frail as a baby bird.   
  
  
\-------------------  
  
Somehow, that residual fear of the dark still haunts the darkest spaces of our minds even into adulthood, when we put away childish dreams and terrors alike. Yet when the clock says that we should be asleep, our minds are alive alongside the shadows, teeming with thoughts that seem only nagging by day but fester in the fecund planes of darkness. Worries twist into guts, sadness stabs like a knife. And memories grow vivid with imagination, that ultimate fertiliser.  
  
Usually, that is where the screams begin.  
  
Thor jolted awake, face pressed uncomfortably into his arm. For a moment he is bewildered, the strange, elusive blue of the early morning has not crept through the windows yet; they are cloaked in shadow, why has he awoken?  
  
Then a noise sounds, so full of pain that it seems to rent the air itself. It takes a second for him to realise its source; then he is on his feet and at the side of the bed in an instant. By some strange chance of fate, the moon decides to come out from behind the clouds just at that moment, sending watery light over the pillow and half of Loki's face.   
  
Sweat is glistening on his upper lip and running down his forehead, the roots of his hair sopping with it, while the tendons under his skin work frantically. A vein is standing out in his neck, blue dulled by the pale epidermis covering it but with the pulse still plainly visible, beating almost constantly in his panic. His chest heaves up and down, collarbones sharp against the soft flesh of his neck. Thor simply stares in shock for a second before snapping back to reality; what was it he had always been taught about sleepwalkers? Don't wake them up? Or do?   
  
Panic-stricken, he tried to remember, but as another desperate sound ripped its way out of Loki's throat, he threw reason aside and slapped Loki hard across the face with a noise like ice cracking. The effect was immediate, Loki woke up with a huge gulp of air, completely disoriented, blinking and terrified. The look of him hit Thor in the chest like a punch; fifteen year old Loki gazed back at him. Thor expected a slap, or a claim of perverse nature to be thrown at him, but instead Loki just gave a huge shiver and collapsed, beginning to gasp again. Thor looked at him completely at a loss for what to do, Loki's breathing was speeding up and becoming more shallow; Jane had mentioned this to him before, it was a 'panic attack', now what was he meant to _do?_  
  
But no answer came. Grimly, he realised that he was on his own, and rolled up his sleeves before taking Loki's face in his hands and angling it towards his, doing his best to ignore the expression of utter terror displayed below him.  
  
'Loki? Shh, brother, shh,' he said calmly, as the gasps became more frequent. 'I need you to breathe as I do, do you understand? When I breathe in, you breathe out. Breathe in for three, out for five. Can you try to do that for me? Please try.'  
  
At first Thor was afraid something had truly gone deeply wrong in Loki's mind over the last few hours as he got no response. Then something seemed to solidify in Loki's swollen eyes and he began to do as Thor said, inhaling as Thor counted for him. Gradually, the shaking began to subside, and then the breathing began to regulate, until Loki slumped forward onto his shoulder, utterly drained. Carefully, Thor laid him back to bed, and was just about to leave when a hand snaked up his arm. If he had not been blessed with good hearing, he might not have heard what Loki said next, as it was muffled by the duvet.  
  
'Please...don't leave.'  
  
Thor stared at his Loki for a second. His face was buried in the duvet, curled up in bedding, and he was in shadow, but the words were unmistakable. Very cautiously, he sat back down and pulled a little of the covers over him, sitting awkwardly upright and suddenly very aware of just how tired he was. A few seconds after his weight dipped the bed, the body beside him gave his shirt a pull. Thor stayed put, nervously thinking over whether to lie down and take the chance of making the wrong move. When his shirt was pulled a second time, he decided that he would risk it, and carefully lay down beside Loki, wrapping his brother in the covers and shifting a little away from him.  
  
If Loki pushed himself closer to his brother's chest in the night, neither of them noticed. Or said anything about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in my mind, Loki is suffering from deep rooted feelings of inadequacy, a fuckton of ingrained racism and self-hatred, and a bigggggg load of PTSD plus anxiety. This doesn't mean he's going to be easy to win over. Loki is a fighter and it'll be a while yet before he starts to respond to Thor's kindness on more than a subconscious level. 
> 
> *wails* this was only meant to be a short fanfic...


	7. Chapter 7

Loki was sat at the topmost point of the Eastern tower, staring blankly out into the sky. The sun had just disappeared below the horizon, leaving an apple-green tinge to the otherwise blue skyscape. Below him, the guards moved like glittering gold ants, scurrying to and fro in the pattern of someone else's wishes. A large bird soared a little way above him. He craned his head, suddenly conscious of how stiff his neck was. 

Something wet slid down his cheek. He wiped it away viciously, tasting salt as he did so, scraping his lips with the collar of his shirt and noting vaguely that he had no idea how long he'd been up here. From the falling of the sun it may have been a good few hours. His mother might have people looking for him, but this part of the tower had been abandoned for so long that the steps had begun to rot away. Only the lightest of tread could climb it fully- there were many missing steps along the way to contest to that fact. He highly doubted that any of the guards would be willing to risk their necks, even for a prince. Anyway, it was Loki, not Thor. Less glory would be had from saving _him_. 

Stretching, he looked around him, to the perfect, sunbathed circle of brick he stood upon, still baking hot from the day's sun. Few plants had grown here when he had first discovered it during a particularly boring afternoon the previous summer. Now, however, potted leafy plants, flowers and malignant herbs climbed up the small walls keeping the visitor from plunging to their death. He had to keep the ingredients of some of his less than pleasant spells away from the eyes of those who would understand their usage- namely, the seidkonna that taught him, Odin, and his mother. Hopefully, Heimdall was concerned with other matters, but he had recently learned a rather useful cloaking spell. It didn't keep him from seeing the tower, that would be too obvious, but simply provoked a disinterest in it. Subtlety, he had learned, was key in matters of concealment. 

Now, however, he had no interest in his hard work of keeping those plants healthy, giving one a violent kick and shattering the pottery with a crash and a shout. A small geranium went the same way, and it was only after three spider plants lost their homes that Loki hissed to himself and thumped down. There was no use acting like an idiot, he thought to himself viciously. Thor would apologise, and Loki would grudgingly accept, and then everything would happen again the next month. Loki was no fool, to be insulted and forgive all once he'd been grovelled to. Those parting words had _hurt_ , badly, and he couldn't bear the thought of speaking to Thor for longer than a minute at the moment, let alone come up with finely tuned insults. Besides, he doubted they'd have the same effect. Nothing could compare to what Thor had deemed him, he thought, gritting his teeth. 

Swiftly, Loki kindled a fire with a click of his fingers, and plucked a few choice ingredients from the surrounding plants, smiling grimly. A simple course of bogweed would induce violent diarrhoea and vomiting for at least a week, coupled with some unpleasant nightmares that could be tailored by the potionmaker to the victim's personal phobias. He mixed the ingredients in a small cauldron, then added a sprig of silverthistle to provoke terrifying hallucinations, a pinch of powdered frog to give the sensation of worms crawling over the skin, and a troll's nail to produce knotted, distended green skin upon the victim. He debated tripling the effects but settled for doubling. Odin had a sharp right hook for an older man, and Loki _had_ been quite aggravating at dinner that night. Not that it excused _any_ of Thor's behaviour. He had probably been looking for him for hours, though. He didn't deserve to be fully troll, at least not yet. 

He tapped his fingers impatiently as the potion simmered. Then bottled it when purplish fumes began to rise from its surface, slipping the small container into his pocket and adding some sugar as an afterthought. Even Thor might get suspicious if his pumpkin juice tasted of feet. 

Then, he hopped down the steps carefully, unworried about falling. He was as light as an elf, after all, and he was almost at the bottom-

Siftli. Damn, damn, damn, he'd meant to meet him this evening. Well, it would have to wait, he was in no mood for conversation, or to think about what had happened in that cloakroom- Loki was so distracted that he almost didn't notice the large footprint in the dust of the steps. He stopped in his tracks, staring. There was no way on earth that was his. It was slim, yes, and long, but at least five sizes larger. Why had anyone been hanging around here? It was a ruin. 

A strange feeling of suspicion rose up inside him for a second, but he soon quashed it. There was nothing suspicious about a _footprint_ , for the Norns' sake. It was probably just a beggar, staying in the pile of rubble and sacks at the base of the tower, who had ventured in during the thunderstorm last week. 

Loki shook his head and marched out with his shoulders high. He failed to see the scrap of fine silk fluttering from a nail near one of the windows. Or the  flash of silver in the corner. 

\----------

It was past dusk by the time he made his way back into the Western wing of the Palace. The Eastern tower was separated from the Eastern wing by a bridge over a small creek that ran through many of the cornfields, and although it was only a short walk over the bridge and through a small coppice to the outmost door of the Palace, the walk through the Palace took a long while. Even though he had grown up here, Loki still lost his way occasionally, and of course today was one of those days. He walked through more  and more gilded passages, with strange picture on the walls, getting a little panicky. He didn't recognise anything, not even a jug, and there didn't seem to be anyone around-

Then he stopped, heart jumping. Yes, he had heard a sound from around the next corner, someone must be there; perhaps they had been looking for him. He jumped forward, and then stared.

Thor was around the next corner. He felt a strange, disconnected sense of deja vu as he watched his brother wind his hands through a maiden's hair, but this time it was gold, shot with honey, the maiden wore a scabbard instead of a spoon tucked into her apron- and then he realised with a shock like a punch to his gut. There was only one maiden that wore a scabbard. Sif, the young warrior-girl, for whom he had always felt a strange sense of jealousy, both for her prowess in sparring and Thor's open admiration of her-

Loki sank back against the next wall and waited until he heard quiet voices bid farewell, and light feet pad away. Then, he emerged, and feigned surprise at the sight of his older brother, who jumped self-consciously and made an effort to smooth his hair before dropping his hands to his sides, acting nonchalant. Well, trying to. It was so obvious that he had been up to something that Loki nearly laughed, but the sound stuck bitterly in his throat. 

'My brother,' Thor said hurriedly, looking bashful.  'I wish to say how terrible I feel for my words to you earlier. They were utterly uncalled for and most crude. I have been searching for hours, I hope you will forgive me-'

 

Fat chance, thought Loki savagely, trying to stop the anger billowing in his stomach spilling out through his mouth. _Liar_ , he yearned to spit, palms itching to grasp Thor's throat, you were obviously more interested in that woman than trying to find me, for all you knew I could have been dead, or dying, or kidnapped.

But Loki kept his composure.

'It is of no import,' he said after a second, coolly. 

Thor stared at him, obviously befuddled by the lack of violence. 

'You- you truly forgive me?' he queried, a small smile spreading over his face. If Loki had looked closer, he might had noticed how genuine the expression seemed. But the boy in question was currently calculating hard. 

'Of course,' he replied blandly. 

If Thor had been able to see exactly what Loki was planning, he might not have taken his brother's arm with such affection. 

\----------------

A young serving boy stood in front of the dark haired prince with trepidation in his watery blue eyes. The serving boy was only a few years younger than Loki himself, but the combination of Loki's willowy height and the dark look on his face served to make give the prince the appearance of someone far older. 

'You wanted something doing, your majesty?' he asked quaveringly.

'Yes,' Loki said, slightly witheringly. 'Why else would I call you at this hour?' he gestured to the velvety blueness crowding the windows, and the shaft of moonlight pooling on the floor at his feet. 

'What do you require?' the serving boy asked quietly. 

Loki brought out a pair of silver scissors from behind his back, ignoring the slight flinch it provoked in his companion. 

'I want you to follow my instructions exactly. If you do, there shall be a large reward for you, enough to feed your family for a year. The first is to bring me Prince Thor's evening posset, he has not yet gone to bed and he shall most likely ask for it within the next half hour. Do not ask me questions,' he said sharply, as the youth opened his mouth curiously. 'What I shall tell you to do next is more important. If you cannot accomplish the first, make sure the second is done.'

When he had finished explaining, the youth stared up at him with no small amount of fear. 

'What if I am found out?'

'Oh, nothing particularly terrible,' said Loki brightly. 'Perhaps you may forfeit a hand, maybe two. But that is nothing compared to what _venom_ you may suffer at the hands of others,' he said, with a grin, as a large snake curled round his pale forearm.

Loki smiled as the youth sprung away and took the scissors, gabbling with fear, and sprinted off. He was not that cruel, the youth was protected by his strongest cloaking spell. 

 

Neither of them were to be found out. Until it was too late. 


End file.
